


It matters to me

by HuyanaShadowheart



Series: Protector and Protected [1]
Category: King Arthur: Legend of the Sword (2017)
Genre: F/M, mentions of physical abuse, mentions of sexual abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 22:14:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11000088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HuyanaShadowheart/pseuds/HuyanaShadowheart
Summary: You and Arthur grew up together in the brothel in Londinium. When you were old enough, you got into the same business as all the other girls, which included sometimes getting hit in the face by customers. Arthur never liked seeing any of the girls getting beaten and looked after you and the others. Now, he’s the new king of Camelot and he doesn’t want you out on the streets again.





	It matters to me

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaand another one. Whoops. This was supposed to be pure fluff, but instead turned into something else… (Also, I might write a second part to this, if I get any ideas.)

Growing up in a brothel in Londinium meant that sooner or later you’d grow up to be a prostitute – especially as a girl. And you did. You didn’t mind the sex, it was your job after all. But no one had prepared you for the men that would beat you, the men who thought they could whatever they wanted with you, as long as they paid. Sometimes, they didn’t pay enough though or at all.

               And every time, Arthur saw that you or one of the other girls had gotten hurt by a customer, he made things right. But not this time. This time, he had to run for his life from a king, his uncle, who wanted him dead. This time, he – and you – had to watch as one of Vortigern’s men slit Lucy’s throat. This time, you barely escaped with your own life. And Arthur wasn’t there to protect you. He wasn’t there when the Blacklegs came and set the brothel on fire.

               He wasn’t there when you had to move from brothel to brothel in hopes of finding a new home and new work, anything to keep you alive. You let them beat you, let them do whatever the hell they wanted to, as long as they paid. And even when they didn’t pay you enough for your offered services, you didn’t say anything. Because if you did, you’d only land on the streets again.

               Somehow, you found yourself employed in the company of other girls, girls that were sent to Camelot. Not only were you going to entertain guests there for the Coronation of the new king, but you were being sent there permanently. You wouldn’t come back to Londinium.

               And, as you had expected, the majority of your customers were drunkards, who easily became violent. But you had learned to keep your head down, to endure it. That was until the new king marched into your new brothel, and barged through your bedroom door. In shock, you pulled the blanket over your naked body and covered it. Certainly Arthur had seen naked women before, and he had seen you naked before as well, but still. The blanket gave you a sense of security and covered up some of the worst bruises.

               ‘Get out, mate. And leave your purse with one of the guys downstairs,’ Arthur said to your current customer. The middle-aged man hurriedly put on his pants, grabbed the rest of his clothes and ran off.

               ‘What are you doing here, Arthur?’ You grumbled, disgruntled at the fact that he had just scared off a customer. Although, you had to admit, you were surprised and happy to see him.

               ‘I think, I should ask you that question, love,’ Arthur answered, walked towards you and went onto his knees in front of you. He put one of his hands on your hands, the other came up to gently caress your cheek. He carefully held onto your chin, turning your head towards the light so he could see the bruises on your face.

               ‘Why would you let them do this to you, Y/N?’ He whispered. You jerked your head from his grip and glared at him.

               ‘You weren’t there to protect me. I’m doing what I have to, to stay alive. To stay off the streets. You’ve seen what Vortigern did to Lucy, and I assume you know that the Blacklegs destroyed our home. I had no one else, but myself. And my work.’ You had gotten up from your bed, walked towards the table where you had a bowl with water and dunked a strap of cloth into the liquid to clean up your face. ‘Besides, it doesn’t matter what they do to me. As long as they pay and I get to stay under a roof with food and clothes. It comes with the job.’

               ‘It matters to me. You know, I don’t like it when they mistreat you girls,’ he said.

               You turned around to him, he had gotten back onto his feet and watched you as you tried your best to clean the blood of your lips and nose. He moved closer towards you, took the cloth from your hand and began to clean your face. You flinched when he touched your nose. Must either be broken or heavily bruised.

               ‘What are you going to do? You’re the king now. Are you going to tell every man in Camelot to be nice to that one whore?’ You mumbled.

               Arthur scoffed. ‘I can hardly do that. But I can make sure you’re never mistreated again nor back out on the streets.’

               ‘How?’ You raised an eyebrow, which didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would.

               ‘Come and live at the castle. All the other girls are there, so are Wet stick and Percy and Blue,’ he suggested.

               You shook your head. He couldn’t be serious. But his face was perfectly straight, only the concern for your wellbeing in his eyes. ‘You don’t really mean that, Art.’

               ‘Yes I do. You have every right to live there, and so do I. We grew up together, remember?’ He took a step back and put the wet and bloody strap of cloth onto the table.

               ‘I can’t. I don’t belong in a _castle_. Besides, what would I do there? The only thing I know, is this,’ you waved your arm around to encompass the whole room, ‘I’m a whore. I will always be a whore. It’s what I’ve done to earn a living and that won’t change. I’m not some Lady, suited to live in a palace, neither am I a servant.’

               Arthur put his hands up to cup your face, forcing you to look at him. But he never held you too hard, you could always slip away from his grip. ‘Please. I would feel much better knowing you’re somewhere where I can protect you. And the others would surely be glad to see you again, too.’

               You sighed. ‘Fine. But if I die of boredom, I will come back and haunt your pretty, royal arse.’

               ‘Fine with me,’ Arthur chuckled.

               He then went back downstairs to sort out everything that needed to be done for you to be released from your employment, and you packed what little you had, got dressed and then followed Arthur downstairs and to your new home.


End file.
